The Nine Knights
by ForeignTongues26
Summary: The City of Adema will bring Camelot better prosperity in trade, never mind its war-filled history or the tales of Nicolas and the nine knights that slayed Arthur's Great-Grandfather. Merlin knows the risks better than anyone, but even he cannot protect his friends from himself. Something's inside him, and it's not his own. Canon AU, dark!Merlin, possible triggers, ghost possession
1. Bourbaki's Adema

This story is posted on AO3 under my name ForeignTongues; I will be transferring other stories here, but this story is in progress.

Trigger warnings for future suicidal/self-harm thoughts and graphic depictions of gore.

I will update chapters based on if people would like it to continue (I have 8 chapters written!) so leave me reviews asking for updates and you shall receive! Plus some reaction to the story and your thoughts would be nice. I am a HUGE talker so if you feel chatty just PM me about stuff!

-Kay :)

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"Alright everyone, I've an announcement to make." Arthur's voice boomed through the stillness of the court room claiming each person's rapt attention. Except that of Merlin, who stood in his usual position by Gaius at the foremost pillar; he instead was transfixed upon the tinted glass windows to his right and the way the dust danced in the colored sunlight.

There was a nudge at his side, and he swiveled to see Gaius offering a stern look of disapproval before motioning his attention to the king with a nod of his head. Merlin didn't understand the importance of such a meeting of which he already knew most of the content.

The Elders had been conversing with King Arthur for the past few weeks about extending the kingdom's control over different portions of land for access to better trade routes. Different areas were in question after the vacation of another kingdom's colony; the colony was uprooted due to seemingly poor agricultural grounds. Arthur had mentioned this in passing for his servant's inquiries of the latest news in unifying the kingdoms. Offering trade with nobility who Camelot had yet to create treaties with would show a mark of peace.  
Merlin focused back on Arthur as silently ordered by his uncle.

"It has been decided through careful consideration of the counsel that we shall expand our borders on the east," Arthur stated with a smile. "Our neighbors in the kingdom of Lothloria have made a treaty to allow trade between our walls, and thus we shall claim the stretch of uninhabited land nearer to Lothloria, the city of Adema, to have timely access as opposed to our former, longer route."

Warm feelings of satisfaction filled the room; the peasants and the nobility gathered were more than happy to hear the news. Trade with a kingdom they had no access to before would provide new foods, culture, techniques and medical skills that the people had not been exposed to previously. And furthermore, it was another step towards the peace between the five kingdoms that their king promised he would fight to create.  
Merlin beamed at his friend, whose eyes skirted over the crowd hoping to see favorable reactions. Catching Merlin's eye, Arthur's grin widened.

"In the following week, I and other knights of Camelot will be sent forth to scour the land and will bring along merchants who wish to make their business in Adema, where as you know, there shall be a bigger flux and the possibility of better economic success for your families. The former villagers already created a settlement so, as far as housing, those willing to move to this new land will be granted settlements until the resources have expired. From there the plan will be to expand and bring in carpenters to truly help the trade route flourish."

"Sire, may I offer my counsel?" Gaius spoke, interrupting the speech. Merlin couldn't see why; there were no obvious problems with the trade agreement. But, if Merlin was sure of anything, it was that whenever his uncle spoke up before the king, it was usually to educate them all on some magical dilemma they were about to encounter.

A little confused but nevertheless gracious, Arthur answered, "Yes, of course Gaius. You are always free to speak your mind."

"Thank you Sire," Gaius bowed. "I'm sure you've heard tales of Adema's history."

"I have," Arthur assured him.

"Then you are aware of the legends, too, of Sir Nicolas and his knights, sire? It is only found in rumor, but there have been reports of sightings within Adema since the passing of your great-grandfather. Surely there are other, safer trade routes to begin settlement in?"

Merlin questioned Gaius with a glance. Sir Nicolas and his knights? He'd never heard of the tale.

"I'm well aware of what has preceded in the history between my blood-line and Adema, but I cannot hold onto mutterings of bed time stories and keep away from the safest trade route possible," Arthur explained. "There have been no reports in a good 40 years of anything troubling that city. It is safe, Gaius."

The man didn't look too pleased with Arthur's assurances, but bowed to his words anyways. Arthur nodded at Gaius and resumed addressing the gathered people.

"At dawn, we will head for the city. This will be the first search, so any merchants are welcome to follow, but are not required to do so. For those who do decide to take the journey, we will provide horses and food for you and your families in this time of travel. Everyone is dismissed."

People erupted into action and conversation as soon as the king stepped down from his throne. A pair of merchants bustled out of the doors as fast as possible, given that they had merely twenty-four hours to prepare for the journey.

The rest stood and talked in celebration, the majority being noble families who were a part of the counsel's decision.

Gaius grabbed Merlin's shoulder with a knobby grip before he went blundering about the castle in order to pack supplies.

"Merlin," he muttered, "come to my chambers. We need to discuss something."

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"Who is this 'Sir Nicolas'? And what happened between Arthur's forefathers and the man's company?" Merlin inquired the second Gaius had hurried him through the door and locked the wood shut. When his uncle turned around, Merlin saw how grave he was.

"He was once the king of Adema," Gaius answered. "And Arthur's forefather, King Uthlon, battled over obtaining the city."

Gaius stepped over to the table and swung his legs over the bench, adopting the position of his elbows touching the table and interlaced hands supporting his chin. Merlin took his normal seat on the opposite side, his attention enhanced.

"So that was how the Pendragons came into power: war," Merlin stated, not surprised in the slightest.

"Yes," Gaius said, "but it was a war against magic as well."

Merlin raised a brow, intrigued.

"When Sir Nicolas sat upon the throne, he commanded that magic be a welcomed part of the city because of its benefits, as many kings did in the olden days. The king himself was a well renowned sorcerer."

"I would give anything to have lived in that kind of kingdom," Merlin remarked.

"They were prosperous," Gaius conceded, "but Uthlon wanted nothing more than to eradicate all magic in the realm."

"Sounds familiar."

"Indeed." Gaius sighed. "The Pendragon's had yet to conquer a kingdom of their own and were looking towards the east, which was closest to the settlements they ruled over. Uthlon thought it advantageous to conquer Adema and abolish the use of magic within the city. Over the course of three weeks, the battle had been won, and Uthlon ordered the hangings of Sir Nicolas and his military in front of the public, condemning them to hell as traitors to the Christian word. Before dying, Nicolas' final words to Uthlon and his people were a curse."

"Of course its a curse; when are we not dealing with such things," Merlin groaned. "I was hoping that this would be one of the few times that we'd have a win, without bandits or begrudging sorcerers involved."

"Merlin, listen to me," Gaius chided. "The land is not safe. Years after Uthlon conquered Adema, he and his people were forced to disperse into neighboring lands by what was recorded as 'ghosts of the fallen king and his most trusted company.' They slaughtered nearly all of the people in Adema, including Uthlon himself. Up until the very end he didn't believe them to be more than uprising citizens who wished for the old ways, despite what the reports said. But when he and the nine knights descended on the citadel, he'd no choice but to see the truth. They cut off his head and murdered the royal staff, but showed mercy to Uthlon's wife, in hopes that the gracious former princess would teach her son in the same ways as she and Nicolas had been risen, not in Uthlon's idea of tirade against magic. She and others fled the city and returned to their other conquered villages where she directed the people and raised the prince."

"And how did he turn out, Uther's father?" Merlin asked.

Gaius grimaced. "He was a fair judge, Uthorn, and he was willing to listen to reason in terms of magic holders, but that changed. His mother, Eras- in her later years, she was kidnapped for ransom by sorcerers in another land. Uthorn gave the men everything they wanted in return for his beloved mother, hoping they would spare her. But she was sent back in a crate, torn and mutilated."

Merlin cast his eyes downward. "So Uther's father, he learned to hate magic, and passed that down to Uther?"

Gaius nodded sadly. "Uther never met Eras, but Uthorn's cruelty and relentlessness towards magic bled into Uther. And when he conquered Camelot, Uther made the same actions of his grandfather in eradicating magic from the land and banning its use. The momentary lapse of 'reason' when Uther trusted the Old Religion and commanded Nimueh to give Ygraine fertility sealed Camelot's fate forever."

It made more sense to Merlin now, how the hatred for magic came to Uther. It had always confused him how the man betrayed every sorcerer for the sins of Nimueh, but knowing that the Pendragon lineage was wrought with distrust of those with magic finally filled in the holes.

"If Arthur and his people journey to this city, there's no guarantee the curse will not apply to him as well," Gaius warned.

"But Arthur is fair," Merlin contested, "the ghosts should understand that he is the change that the Old Religion has long awaited, shouldn't they?"

"There is nothing to prove that they will know the difference. All time has distorted their understanding. If they sense the blood of a Pendragon, they are likely to blindly attack."

Merlin swallowed and stared at the staircase above him, trying to glean something from its contents.

"There must be something in these books that would tell how to fight against spirits," Merlin said, rising from the table firmly and beginning to ascend the steps. Gaius stopped him with an arm.

"All ghosts are the same, Merlin. Keeping a ring of salt will protect your camp. But as for killing them, well, spirits cannot be killed, as they are already dead. They're immortal beings."

"Then- wait," Merlin said, "would Arthur's sword stand a chance against them?"

Gaius turned back into his seat with thought.

"In theory, yes," he replied, Merlin being not too keen on the factuality of 'in theory,' "but you must be careful. This is dangerous dark magic, Merlin. I don't know how your own will react."

"I have to go with him," Merlin said resolutely. "It is my duty, Gaius."

"I know," Gaius replied. "But please, you must take care."

Merlin studied Gaius' aging face. They'd been at this so long that Merlin expected this conversation would be a thing of the past. Instead, they both grew more tired and weary. Perhaps it was the constant reminder that any mistake would mean impending doom, or maybe, that every time Merlin came back from a journey, Gaius would be forced to doctor wounds of incrementing severity.

"I promise, I'll take care of myself too. Just for you," Merlin said. He moved around the table to meet Gaius with a hug. They held it for a long moment, letting their solemnity be comforted.


	2. Prelude

Hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter! It was mostly an explainer/set up for the series, but an important one.

Warning for slight alcoholism!

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Merlin was fine.

Really. He was.

If he was disgustingly relieved to hear that there was yet another curse he had to protect his king from, he couldn't quite admit it to himself.

It wasn't that he longed for danger, for Arthur to be in constant peril and Merlin be the secret savior- he didn't believe it was that.  
But as the weeks quieted and dragged despairingly onward without so much as a disgruntled kitchen worker, Merlin could not help feeling flighty. Insects crawled under his skin and his stomach joined into knots; his hands shook like he'd often visited the Rising Sun and his smile wasn't genuine.

He hypothesized that the idea of imminent danger gave him a sort of importance in protecting those he loved. There was never a dull moment, only determination and boundless strength.

And then, when the attack was over, when the quest had been conquered, there was nothing but silence and an eery anticipation for the next big drama. Merlin would start to feel useless, stuck in place, like a rut he'd walked on for so long that it became a six-foot deep grave.  
So as he prepared for the journey next morning, he could not help the canvas of relief his feelings painted. He'd fed and watered the horses and packed food, as well as having gathered a few medicinal supplies in case it was needed. Merlin's change of clothes and his bed roll were sitting patiently by his door for the morning.

At this time, the hour was late, and the last preparation Merlin needed to make was that of packing for Arthur. He treaded through the marble hallways and cast glances at passerby's, but maintained focus on the buzz of adrenaline creeping into his system.  
When he arrived at the king's door, Merlin rapped his knuckles thrice and waited patiently.

A few moments passed where Merlin heard nothing. A sudden sinking feeling churned in his gut.

"Hello?"

He called louder than the knocking, but no response was made. He gave it a few seconds before saying, "Alright, Arthur, I'm entering."  
Merlin turned the knob with hesitation because surely this would be the same as the other nights. He didn't want to witness it any longer. But there, sitting at his decorated table, was Arthur, a pitcher of ale with three fourths of its contents drafted, and a chalice that the king pressed to his parted lips like water in a desert.

"Merlin," drunken Arthur greeted, "come in." His words ended in a slur and the movement of his gestures was sloppy. Arthur set the chalice on the table forcefully and a little ale spilled onto the wood.

"Have you made preparations for tomorrow?" Arthur inquired, managing to keep up an authoritative stance despite the haziness in his eyes. Merlin stood and withheld a sigh, forcing his lips into a polite smile. He shut the door behind him and approached the king.

"Yes, all that's left is to gather your things. That's why I'm here."

Arthur's eyes grew bright like he'd been enlightened to the earth's secrets. "Ah! Of course. Go right ahead."

Merlin shook his head minutely at the increasingly daft Arthur before him and went about folding clothes into a bag.

It had been going on too long, really, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. In the weeks since Gwen had been banished, on certain nights Merlin would find Arthur in a drunken spiel to incinerate any emotions of woe. He'd yet to confront the problem because a couple of times seemed applicable for someone who had just lost their love, but right before a quest to expand the borders? Arthur would be hungover and depleted on the start tomorrow. Merlin didn't want to deal with a less than pleasant Arthur and he couldn't quite believe that Arthur would indulge himself like this before a task of great importance.

Once the pack was filled with all the necessary items, Merlin walked silently to the table and set the bag on the floor. Arthur paid him no attention, readily gulping down the drink.

Merlin pulled a chair next to Arthur and sat slowly. He feared how Arthur would react- Merlin doubted this would be any easier with a drunk version of the king- but nevertheless, he pursued.

"This needs to stop, Arthur," Merlin gently ordered. "Drinking the nights away won't give you the solace you seek."

"What the hell are you on about," Arthur spoke, adjusting himself to face Merlin. He could feel his chest tighten in response.

"The drinking. It's because of Gwen, isn't it?" Merlin inquired sheepishly. His eyes fluttered downward.  
Arthur took a cold stare to Merlin, anger rising in color on his cheeks. He gripped the chalice so tight that his hand began to shake.

"Get out. Now." Arthur gritted his teeth. Merlin met his stare and swallowed shyly, but remained determined.

"You know that you can speak to me, right? I love Gwen; she's a dear friend, and I miss her too."

"Why in God's name would I talk to you," Arthur spat, "You're a bumbling idiot, Merlin. Get out of my room before I have you sent to the dungeons for the night."

Merlin felt beyond hurt. Of course he did. But was he not used to this? Arthur, when counseled, forming his despair into wrath at anyone who dared to reach too deep inside his psyche. He knew it too, that Arthur was lashing out because of fear. But he couldn't help the tears in his eyes. To dedicate your life to protecting and helping a man and to be faced constantly with disdain and maltreatment... It had an affect on Merlin.

"Right," Merlin said, rising from the chair. Arthur wouldn't look at him now, and gazed resolutely on the brown drink in his chalice. Merlin grabbed the pack and slung it over his right shoulder, breathing steadily so as to collect himself. He didn't want to show Arthur any weakness in him more than the man already believed he had.

Merlin opened the door and looked out into the hallway, about to proceed. But then, he spoke once more to Arthur, his back towards the king.

"I'll always be here for you Arthur, if you need me. Just remember that."

When the door closed and Merlin trudged back to his chambers, Arthur allowed himself to cry with the mannerisms of a lonely, broken child.

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Let me know what you thought of the chapter! I know its a bit sad; if you like Arthur emotional-whump as well as future Merlin whump then you got a double deal here. I always respond to any reviews, questions, or constructive criticism!


	3. Mischief and Murder

Three days had passed with no incident, and it was driving Merlin mad.

Arthur, the knights of the Round Table, and a couple of merchants by the family name Ellish followed him in the company setting upon Adema.

Arthur had been correct in his statements about safety. They'd passed a number of borders, and yet, no bandits or enemy kings-men had caused a quarrel to sabotage the quest. Part of Merlin was relieved, but the majority of his thoughts zeroed in on the silence lining the forests at nighttime and the persistent tremor in his hands. It was spreading steadily through his arms, and had acquired his knees as well, so that whenever they stopped for a break, he almost fell trying to dismount his horse.

The company in and of itself was cheerful and comfortable, which made Merlin stick out like a sore thumb. The Ellish's were husband and wife, both rather successful looking people if judged by their plump weight, the quality of their clothing, and the pouches of coin they carried. It appeared a merchant's life was not always a lousy one. The wife had a pleasant face like a loving grandmother while the man's face frowned with aggressive eyebrows that fully contradicted his kind disposition.

If it were any other time, Merlin might have gotten to know them, but whenever spoken to, Merlin gave short and somber replies in order to quickly resume his dark musings. The Ellish's learned not to pry the man.

If any of the knights besides Gwaine noticed, they kept the thought to themselves. Merlin was in a mood half the time because of his worry, and though they understood his incredible loyalty to the king, they didn't understand what role Merlin played in helping him.

Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival were at the back of the company whilst Arthur and Leon stayed upfront, keeping the merchants and Merlin safe, as they were the civilians. From this aspect, Gwaine had a bird's eye view of Merlin's frantic movements at any sharp noise, the bend in his crouched back exposing his lethargy, and the subtle shaking in his shoulders. He was well aware of the extent of anxiety Merlin suffered from anytime they were on a possibly dangerous quest, but on this occasion it was odd for him; Merlin didn't really believe in Gaius' fairytales, did he?

Perhaps, Gwaine thought, he could lighten Merlin's tone. And thus, out of ignorance, the prank was born.

Fifteen minutes swam along without much content. Merlin wouldn't move his gaze from the bobbing neck of his horse, and how her mane tousled lightly in the breeze. It was the most calming thing Merlin could keep focus on. Frey, he called her, as an honor to Freya herself. He'd grown attached to the beast over the many years in Camelot and found peace in her quiet, gentle company.

"Everyone, wait-" Elyan spoke suddenly. The company slowed their horses to a stop and joined in a ragged circle to face one another.

"What's the matter?" Arthur asked, looking longingly towards the east. Everyone was beginning to feel the ache and need for rest, and they could almost smell the wind of Adema before them.

"Gwaine," stated Perceval, "He's disappeared."

Realizing the vacancy, Merlin shot a hurried glance to Arthur, who looked bewildered himself.

"How the bloody hell did you lose Gwaine?" he asked.

"He was behind us one minute and then was gone the next; I don't know what's happened," Elyan explained, and Percival nodded in agreement. "It's like he vanished."

Now Merlin was on the point of panic, gripping the reins so tightly his knuckles blushed pink. Perhaps Morgana had emerged from her putrid dungeons and plotted an attack on them while they were not expecting any trouble, but then, there must be a traitor in the castle... Who could that possibly be? He'd seen no one of suspicion as of late-

A yelp erupted in the forest not so far away, and Merlin listened with heaving breath until his mind processed the voice: it was Gwaine.

Arthur and Leon began shouting out to Gwaine and pulling their horses in the direction of the sound, preparing to stampede to his location and assist the man. Elyan and Percival seemed in shock, which wasn't a normal sight for men usually stoic. Mr. Ellish motioned for his wife to back her horse up and began to use his steed as a shield in front of her.

And Merlin? His blood pumped so hard in his veins that he felt like he was about to burst. His chest felt like it was flying and made of air; all he could think to do was jump off of his horse and start running to Gwaine, so desperate to help the man while filled with impossible adrenaline.

That's when they heard the pounding tread of horse hooves and settled in wait, all to see Gwaine riding through the trees with a sloppy grin parting his lips and proud shoulders that bounced along with the horse's pace.

"I'm fine, no need to worry," Gwaine said coming in close to the company near Merlin, who was frozen on Frey, eyes bulging, unable to process what just happened. "I was just playing a little joke on Merlin here." He slapped a gruff hand to Merlin's shoulder and gave a friendly squeeze, with no reaction from the latter.

Percival and Elyan burst into rapid laughter and shared knowing looks with each other.

"Ah, you bastards," Leon said with a smirk that struggled against becoming a smile. "Don't do that again, Gwaine. If you had returned from behind, I'd have cut you down as a bandit!"

"I'd like to see you try," Gwaine taunted, retracting his arm from Merlin. The Ellish's were too shy in the presence of nobility to do more than gather in the circle once more and chuckle with grins of relief, the elder man wrapping a comforting arm around his wife.

Arthur did his best to look stern, even though the knights recognized the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Come on men, this is a serious quest. There's no time for romping about."

Elyan and Percival's laughter died off to barely contained snorts as they refocused on the king.

"And Gwaine?"

"Yes, Sire," Gwaine answered, being jocular through his monotonous, respectful response.

"If you run off again, go ahead and return to Camelot. We don't need shenanigans." Arthur's lips turned to a warmly smile despite his words.

"Aye, captain," Gwaine responded. That induced even more snickers from the other schemers, of course.

Merlin didn't say a word throughout this until the moment they continued onward; he retreated behind the Ellish's to where he could speak side-by-side with Gwaine.

"That really wasn't funny," he murmured, just loud enough that Gwaine could hear. "I thought something had gotten you."

"Take a load off, Merlin," Gwaine offered. He gestured to the scenery of the bright forest around them and said, "Nothing bad can come from this trip. In fact, we should be celebrating! It's not often we get cozy with a neighboring kingdom!"

Elyan, overhearing from behind, nodded his head in agreement where Merlin could see him. Merlin huffed.

Shuffling his horse forward so that he could speak privately, Merlin tried again to reprimand Gwaine.

"I'm serious, we need to stay together. There's something bad in Adema; I can almost feel it."

"Always the worry-wart," Percival popped up from behind. Both he and Gwaine grinned playfully at Merlin, who trampled forward in exasperation.

It was useless trying to get through to them. Might as well keep his mouth shut.

He was useless.

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Be sure to follow! I now have a total of nine chapters for this story, and its still not at its end! Sorry for the delay in uploading; I got bit by a brown recluse and then had a bad reaction to the steroids I was prescribed to heal the bite. Not very fun!

As always be sure to let me know what you thought of the chapter! I'll try to edit and upload the fourth within the next few days.


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